


Enduring

by theriacs



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, potential spoilers for season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8441068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theriacs/pseuds/theriacs
Summary: It’s 2AM when Alex realizes why the Black Mercy takes the shape of a plant. Not a person, plague, nor pestilence. But a plant.





	

It’s 2AM when Alex realizes why the Black Mercy takes the shape of a plant.

Not a person, plague, nor pestilence.

But a plant.

She looks down at the uniform she hasn’t changed out of and swears she can feel its roots sinking through her chest, creeping tendrils snaking around her heart.

But there’s nothing to grasp in front of her chest except the bourbon in her hand.

Her father once told her that she would never be given more than she can endure. He believed in her without restraint nor exception. Believed that she would be able to handle any challenge in her way.

He dies, and Alex thinks he is wrong.

His absence splits her open, raw and jagged like shrapnel from a bomb. It rends open the hole of being second best. But as young as she was, Alex has always had the heart of a soldier. She ties a tourniquet over her heart and chokes it to stay alive.

That day, she learns that love is a sacrifice, and her father would do anything to keep his family together.

It’s not the same as having him proudly taking pictures at her science fairs or sitting side by side playing piano together, but the knowledge is all she has left of him.

(She endures.)

Her mother breaks from it, and her words grow prickly like thorns, lashing at Alex with vines. Weeds ravage their relationship until the home they built is desolate and barren. She knows pain and loss as well as her mother, but they don’t know each other enough.

Her mother’s words are meant to come from love, but they nip and rip apart barely healed wounds. They scar badly, leave Alex feeling ugly.

She learns that love is not always right and putting those feelings into words is not always for the best.

Alex takes a torch to the cracks that the weeds are sprouting through inside of her heart, burning them away and cauterizing the wound.

It burns the bridge to her mother along with it.

(She endures.)

Her sister is impossibly kind, and that is somehow worse than all of her mother’s barbed expectations.

She learns to take Alex’s hand, and how to hug Alex without breaking her. She pretends to be scared when Alex needs to be strong, and Alex has never loved someone more.

Kara is a beaming sunflower in her life, warm and trusting.

Alex takes hold of the weeds in her heart and rips them out one by one, no longer bothered by the scars they leave behind. She refuses to let them touch her sister and take away her light.

Her fingers claw deep, raking through the first sign of trouble, clipping away budding problems before they become disasters.

Together, they plant saplings that bloom inside of Alex, growing into trees that support her chest when it caves in.

They brave storms inside of the shelter they’ve raised, and Alex builds a home for Kara.

But all sunflowers grow toward the sun, and eventually Kara is turned away from where Alex stands in the shadows.

Alex continues to weed, to water, to watch.

Nothing will hurt Kara while she is alive.

She learns that love is not always reciprocated, and that trees are harder to uproot than weeds.

(She endures.)

When Alex meets Maggie, the canopy of trees has grown so thick and wide that nothing but darkness lies beneath.

She doesn’t think there is any room left in her heart, but she tries to relocate the mess anyway.

It feels like betrayal, like desecrating old ruins, like she’s cutting down something sacred and will be cursed for it.

A small opening clears and a beam of sunlight illuminates soft grass, much to Alex’s relief.

She places down a sapling—new and naive, different from all the others—and wonders what it will become.

She watches it slowly take root and smiles.

She watches hope blossom tentatively inside her chest.

She watches a happy grin meet a kiss that isn’t hers.

She watches sharp teeth behind soft lips break fragile branches, and Alex wonders why she bothers at all.

Alex is not a botanist by any means, but she understands why the Black Mercy is a plant.

Plants will grow where they please, cracking pavements and scaling walls. They claim lands for themselves and topple buildings with their might. Their roots run deep, stealing whatever they need to survive, and in return, give back to nurture what they need to stay alive.

As Alex sips her bourbon alone at the bar, she thinks she could benefit from a symbiotic relationship like the Black Mercy as well.

This time, she learns that hope is not always what a person needs.

Still.

She endures.

**Author's Note:**

> Alex Danvers breaks my heart, and now she knows how plants can destroy you.


End file.
